Home. The word feels strange and perfect at the same time.
The drive to the Vatican takes longer than usual. A demonstration blocks part of the route – people with signs thanking me for my service. I ask the driver to slow down, and I roll down the window to wave. Their cheers are overwhelming.
“They love you, sir,” my security agent says.
“They love what we accomplished together,” I correct him.
The car finally pulls up to the private entrance of the Vatican, wherethe Swiss Guard stands at attention. They’ve become accustomed to my presence over the past year, though the arrangement remains unprecedented. The Pope’s partner, residing within the Vatican walls. History continues to be written, one day at a time.
I’m escorted through quiet corridors to the papal apartment, where Marco waits. He’s not in his formal papal attire, just a simple white cassock. His face brightens when he sees me, and he dismisses the guards with a gentle nod.
“Mr. Prime Minister,” he says with a smile.
“Not anymore,” I reply, loosening my tie.
His arms wrap around me, and I feel the tension of the day dissolve. “How are you feeling?” he asks against my shoulder.
“Lighter. Accomplished. A bit disoriented.” I pull back to look at him. “But mostly, I feel right. It was time.”
Marco leads me to the balcony overlooking the gardens. The evening sun casts long shadows across the ancient stones. We’ve spent many evenings here, discussing the parallel challenges we’ve faced in our respective institutions.
“Gabriella will make an excellent Prime Minister,” he says, pouring me a glass of Merlot.
“She will. She’s already better at some aspects of the job than I ever was. More patient. More strategic. Less brash.”
“And you? Any regrets?”
I consider the question, watching the light play across the garden. “None about stepping down. I accomplished what I set out to do. The corruption networks are exposed. The reforms are in place. My approval ratings are at seventy-two percent.” I smile. “Perfect time to exit the political theatre.”
“The first Italian Prime Minister in decades to leave office more popular than when he entered, and not fleeing criminal charges” Marco notes.
“Which means I’ve probably peaked politically.” I take a sip of wine. “What about you? Any regrets about harbouring a retired politician?”
His laugh is soft. “None. Though the Cardinals still haven’t quite adjusted to our living arrangements.”
“They’ve adjusted to far more significant changes this year,” I point out.
It’s true. The reforms from Marco’s Extraordinary Synod have transformed the Church in ways that seemed impossible just a year ago. LGBTQ+ Catholics welcomed into full communion. Optional celibacy for priests. Women taking on greater leadership roles. Each change met with resistance, yet each implemented with Marco’s quiet, determined grace.
“I’ve been thinking,” Marco says, his tone shifting slightly. “About what comes next for you.”
“Have you now?” I raise an eyebrow. “I was planning on a very long vacation.”
“After that.” He turns to face me fully. “The Vatican could use someone with your expertise. Someone who understands governance, finance, and reform.”
“Are you offering me a job, Your Holiness?”
“A position. Special Advisor to the Holy See on Institutional Reform.” His eyes hold mine. “The Church’s governance structures haven’t changed significantly in centuries. The corruption we exposed in the Vatican Bank was just the surface. We need someone who can help us build systems that reflect our values.”
I consider this. “You don’t think it would appear too… nepotistic?”
“I’ve consulted with Cardinal Sullivan and the reform-minded members of the Curia. They agree we need outside expertise.” He takes my hand. “Besides, who better to help reform an ancient institution than someone who’s just successfully reformed another one?”
The idea intrigues me. Not immediate, perhaps. But eventually.
“I’ll think about it,” I promise. “But first, I need some time to decompress. To remember who Matteo Valentini is when he’s not Prime Minister.”
Marco smiles. “I can help with that part.”
